Jeb worked steadily, not rushing, but not getting behind, either. He felt okay, despite working the past few hours in the kitchen. These people weren't so bad. They were more like Marines than the Girl Scouts that ran the ship could ever hope to be. They had a shit job. They did what others couldn't or didn't want to. They bore their load with a grimace and a will-do attitude. Just like Marines. In fact, the more that Jeb thought about how similar they were, the more he felt comfortable with his predicament. 'I should thank that rat of a Lt. Commander,' thought the Chief to himself. 'That would definitely confuse the hell out

of him.'

It was while wrapped up in these thoughts that the head of the kitchen, Yeoman Rogers, came by. He seemed concerned by the thoughtful look in the old Marine's eyes. "You alright, Chief?" asked the concerned man.

Jeb's head snapped to the source of the question. "Sure. I'm alright. Thanks for asking," replied Jeb. 'That's the fourth time he's asked' thought Jeb to himself. It then occurred to Jeb that maybe the head of the kitchen staff was afraid he would do something rash. 'Not again', thought Jeb. That's what landed me this duty in the first place.

A shouted order brought Jeb back to reality, and he depressed a few keys on the replicator and handed out the steaming plate to yet another anonymous server. Glancing out into the party on occasion, Jeb saw that there weren't any Marines out there, at least not when he got the opportunity to look out. Squids. All of them. A party for the dead Captain that none of the Marines onboard, save the Lt. Maj. possibly, had known. The Leatherneck's were all in deep-freeze when the captain had passed on. That suited Jeb just fine, as he'd faced death enough in his field experiences. And soon, he could feel, another time of fighting and death was soon to begin. Jeb just hoped that this old Marine came back in one piece, plus the Lt. Maj. She was kind of cute, in a daughterly way.

-Aaron Baugh

AKA Jeb Kirby, CWO2, SMC, USS Grail